The Joke's On Mundus
by Lord Diago
Summary: Mixing of the main questline, Umbacano's series of missions and the Sephira. A dark web indeed...:
1. Salvation of a sort

Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Before you read this chapter, read 'I can't shut him out' and 'The Refugees' from the game Oblivion. You can find the latter on UESP under 'Books'. It'll make far more sense!_

The woman ran through the town, heedless of the incessant cries of the newborn she was cradling. The boy had told her to board the afternoon boat to Cyrodiil, and she was not about to disobey him.

The white and red-roofed buildings flashed past. It was a pretty town, but she was leaving it and would never return.

As she ran past a tree she felt a pang of…something. Homesickness? A yearning for the trees of Valenwood, the only home she knew? No. She had never known Valenwood. He had kept her under lock and key. Bitterly, the woman wondered what Valenwood looked like now. Scorched earth? A sea of tar? She wouldn't put it past him.

**********

She had already convinced herself that this would be her life forever. His mistress, a slave. A whore in a mirthless palace, like a doomed bird in a glorious cage. For she was to die. The Cameron Usurper would never let her live to give birth.

Then he had come. A tall and handsome Imperial man. Really a boy. He had approached her as she was sleeping one night. Conquering her terror ( for an associate of the Usurper was surely an enemy of the highest degree to most of Tamriel), she listened to him as he, in flawless language and in the sweetest tone made her a proposition she could not refuse.

At the time she was heavy with child, and was barely able to make it to the baron's castle when she found herself brought to the foot of the hill the castle was on.

Not in the least bit confused, as he had explained his plan for her and her child in the greatest detail, she made her way up the hill.

The guards at the gate, thinking her another refugee or asylum seeker, let her in without question when they saw that she was with child. The boy had predicted as much.

The guards were expecting refugees. The Usurper's armies had reached High Rock at last, and the battle was too near the town for comfort.

Distressingly close to the tiny harbor town the sounds of metal and magic rang. The clash of mortal steel against daedric ebony, the roar of flame, the hiss of frost, the battle cries of mortals and Dremora…

Against this cacophonic backdrop the woman had given birth right there in the camp, on a grimy bed roll the guard had brought out for her and the injured.

A healer had talked her through it, and was stunned when she picked up the cleaned-off newborn and sprinted out of the castle. The woman ran down to the coast, as per the boy's instructions, grateful for the silver ring of fortification he had given her earlier and told her to wear only when she was in the castle.

**********

As she boarded the boat, she finally turned towards calming her hysterical newborn down. She thought of the challenges ahead. Learning Cyrodiilic, finding work, raising her child…

It was only later that she would ponder more closely the boy's only condition. That the child would, much later in his life, serve the boy. The woman would then look down at her baby and wonder what the boy could want with her little Mankar Cameron.


	2. The Mystic and the Conjuror

Chapter Two

Out of the Darkness

********

Cassandra walked down the white stone steps onto the small platform. Someone had put a wooden table against the right wall and left some rusty iron armour on it. High above among the white arches chandeliers of blackened metal hung from chains, the chunks of white crystal within them providing the only source of light. Apart from Shalz's powerful Light spell and Hrol's torch, of course. The white stone walls took on a greenish hue on one side and an orange one on the other, and the combined light sources laid bare every detail of Vilverin's beautiful and utterly alien stonework in a very oddly aesthetic way.

The high arches within mirrored the Cyclopean arches without. The huge white bricks were joined without mortar, held together either by engineering or magick. Both would have been within the Ayleid's power.

The Argonian Spellsword glowed brilliantly green, and the huge Nord Battlemage's torch was really quite unnecessary. Cassandra, the only pure Mage in their group (though competent in all schools of magic except restoration and alchemy, her true forte was Mysticism), walked behind them, eyes magenta coloured, using Detect life to give their group first warning.

Looking at the rusty armour thoughtfully, she raised her hands and cast a short-range but long lasting Telekinesis spell on it, moving it behind the group but ready to throw it at the first enemy they saw.

Sure enough, halfway down the second flight of stairs, Cassandra picked up two enemies. The purple hazes were quite indistinct, and she could not tell if they were animal or humanoid. One of them, the closer one, was lying down, and thus was probably sleeping.

Undead wouldn't have to sleep, and the shape was decidedly oblong, so Cassandra reasoned, quite correctly, that the figures were humanoid. She relayed this information to her companions telepathically. Shalz dropped his Light spell, and Hrol extinguished his torch.

The Argonian Spellsword cast a weak Chameleon spell on himself, knowing through experience that the darkness of the ruin would work to his advantage. Cassandra stayed behind Hrol, who waited for Shalz's signal to Cassandra. Sneaking confidently and displaying great prowess the Argonian sneaked over to the occupied bedroll and with one cut of his enchanted dagger slit the throat of the sleeping victim, a Redguard bandit.

He communicated this to Cassandra through their mental link. Lightly she tapped on Hrol's shoulder. The Nord boldly stepped out of the shadows and into the second bandit's view.

The Dunmer Bowman immediately saw him and reached for the glass bow on his back, but was hit in the chest with a weak fireball. The Dunmer was thrown back but not greatly injured, his kind being quite resistant to the element of fire.

As he moved to get up, Shalz threw a weak Paralysis spell at him. The twin green orbs spiraled towards the Dunmer and hit him in the back.

As he fell, Cassandra Telekinetically threw the iron cuirass she had broguth from the landing squarely directly at his head.

As her companions closed in on the unconscious Dunmer, Cassandra felt good about this mission. They would conquer this Vilverin, find that Ayleid Statue and bring it to their employer. Umbacano would be pleased.

In the meantime, as Hrol prepared to revive and interrogate the Dunmer, Cassandra used Telekinesis to bring down a few of the Welkynd Stones on their metal pedestals in the tiny alcoves in the walls.

This was going to be fun.

**********

The young Dunmer paced his grubby cell in the dank Imperial Prison. The old Dunmer in the cell across him had proven most uncongenial, threatening to steal his woman and claiming that he would receive the death penalty.

He was not worried, though. Liixa had told him what to expect. She had been right. It had been very easy to bribe the jailor to move him to this cell. The jailor was an ignorant young Imperial, obviously unaware of that particular cell's significance. It had only taken a hundred gold. Just as Liixa said.

Helseth thought her name with fondness. He remembered her figure, her small waist and curves visible even under her glossy black clothes. Her straw coloured hair and stunning face. It was not only the promise of illimitable power and knowledge that the young Telvanni Conjuror had dragged himself out of his mushroom fortress and into Cyrodiil to let himself be arrested for petty theft.

His sharp (both figuratively and literally) ears pricked up as he heard footsteps. Solemn voices spoke of assassinations and secret escape routes. Helseth felt his heart palpitate. Putting on his best innocent face, he peeked between the bars to watch Emperor Uriel Septim and three others desce3nd the flight of stairs.

The Emperor spoke of how he had seen the Dunmer in his dreams, and insisted to his Blade guards that the prisoner be allowed to travel with them. The leader of the Blades, an upright woman named Captain Renault, muttered angrily about the incompetence of the jailors in not informing their new recruits of the 'off-limits' rule of the cell.

As she muttered she walked towards the wide stone wall and pushed in a brick. The entire wall descended, and a mephitic vapour assaulted their nostrils. Helseth did not need Liixa's information in this case. Anyone could surmise the route connected to the sewers.

The Blades, with the good Captain at head, descended the crude tunnel, and Uriel followed behind. Turning to grin at his shocked jail mate across the cell, Helseth followed behind.

As he felt the air grow cold he mentally went through the plan again. Follow the Emperor, let him be killed, and take the Amulet of Kings.

He was ready, he told himself, and pictured himself standing before her, Amulet in hand, triumphant. She would smile at him, and he would look into her perfect cyan eyes…

_Author's Note: How's THAT for a twist?? The hero as pawn of the Sephira! Har har har…_

_Do praise or criticize as you see fit. I am always looking to improve!_


	3. Mage, Master and King

Chapter Three

Mage, Master and King

Arch-Mage Eryl swas sitting at the elegant wooden study desk in an alcove of his living quaters. Before him was a letter from an ex-Master-Wizard and member of the Council of Mages to the ex-Arch-Mage Hannibal Traven. What he read disturbed him greatly.

He had known Dagail from his time at the Leyawiin Guild hall. She was not the most easily understood person in Cyrodiil, and was greatly troubled by visions and voices she could barely shut out.

The explanation was startling, and he was overwhelmed by a wave of pity for the kindly Altmer woman. She had, after all, given him one of the 'recommendations' he had needed to enter the University two years ago.

Much had happened since then, Eryl refelcted. The fiasco with the Necromancers, ending with the _second_ death of Mannimarco at Eryl's own spell. The destruction of the Kvatch and Bruma Guild halls, the betrayal of Falcar and Caranya, the death of two Master-Wizards, the noble and tragic sacrifice of Hannibal Traven…

And now, revelations too strange and of such terrible greatness that he felt dizzy to recollect them. What else did the Ayleids know? What more have the Psijics learned? The Arch-Mage pondered, absent-mindedly toying with the flames of the candles at the back of the desk, changing their shapes and colors at random.

Whatever these beings where, it was clear from the letter that one needed to be a Master of both Conjuration and Mysticism to know and summon them. He knew few Mages that fit the bill. There were few he could turn to. Fortunately for Mundus, Arch-mage Eryl was an Altmer of intellect, and knew that the worst course of action was, quite frankly, inaction. The Necromancers had taught the Guild that much.

The slender Altmer was snapped out of his reverie by a soft hum from behind him. Turning his head, he saw a young Breton in a green and brown-trimmed robe. The Apprentice bowed. 'Your coach to Leyawiin is ready, Arch-Mage', he said.

Nodding in acknowledgement, he lifted his heavy ultramarine and golden design-embellished robes and got up as the Apprentice stepped back onto the portal and vanished after briefly glowing purple, the same soft hum sounding. Eryl followed suit.

Appearing in the Council Chambers, he sighed as he remembered Irlav Jarol and Hannibal Traven. He walked around the sturdy round table, crunched papers and scrolls still on it. Around the table book shelves lined with records of past meetings and references of history and law abounded. He reached the second portal on the other side and stepped onto it. His carriage to Leyawiin was waiting outside the Imperial City, at Wawnett Inn. He wanted to speak with Dagail as soon as possible.

**********

The huge limestone statue of Mehrunes Dagon leered. The Imperial boy looked up at it disdainfully. He shook his waist-length silver hair impatiently. Finally he sensed his associate descending the high flight of stairs in the Shrine Chamber.

The Altmer's ultramarine and gold robe swished around his feet as he walked. At either side of him two men in blood-red robes and hoods walked, careful not the make eye-ontact with either the man in the blue robe or the silver haired boy.

The red-robed men stopped just before the platform, the blue-robed man continuing onwards and finally standing before the boy. The Altmer towered above the young Imperial. Despite this, it was him who was tense, and the boy who was relaxed.

'You certainly took your time, Mankar!' the boy sneered, in a voice that suggested playfulness and youth while carrying an unidentifiable trace of power. The red-robed men were shocked at the boy's utter disrespect for their Master.

The Altmer spoke tensely. 'I was conversing with my lieutenants. The agents are ready to open the Great gate. Lord Dagon gives his permission to begin?' he said. 'Of _course_ he does, Mankar…' the boy said in an exasperated tone. 'In truth, I've come for the Amulet. I assume you have it? The assassination was a success, after all. All over the news…' he said smugly.

Mankar Cameron trembled.

**********

Umbacano sat at his study table, a bottle of Tamika's '399' close at hand. In his hand was a sketch of a pillar, supposedly of a unique feature of a certain Ayleid ruin, and on his desk was a catalogue of known ruins helpfully compiled by the Fighter's Guild, in collaboration with the Arcane University's Ayleid Research Department.

A knock came at the door. 'Come in, Jollring,' the Altmer said. The Nord butler pushed the door open with his elbow, his green-sleeved hand occupied with a large silver tray bearing his master's dinner. He quickly unloaded the plates of mutton and potatoes, salad and cheese and desert of sweetcake. Refilling his master's glass of wine, he exited.

As Umbacano sighed with frustration at not finding any new information or even hint in the catalogue, he sat back and wiped his eyes. Stretching his arms, he wondered which of his three treasure-hunters would return from Vilverin.

It was the ninth Ayleid statue they had tracked down, and a hefty bonus was in store for them. One of them anyway. From his experience in hiring treaure-hunters, he had noticed a pattern. People have an uncanny way of getting into 'accidents' whenever a bonus was offered.

He was casually hoping it would the Nord and Argonian.


	4. Onward

Chapter Four

The Nord Battlemage's hand glowed red. Beneath his touch the Dunmer Bandit's thigh muscles tore and his bones fissured as the weak Damage Health spell took effect. A slight ripping and cracking were the only indication of the spell's effectiveness.

The Dunmer would have been screaming in pain if Shalz had not Silenced him. Currently he was mutely mouthing.

Standing further back Cassandra busied herself with examining the Welkynd stones she had procured, trying not to imagine.

She tried not to look at her fellow treasure-hunters-for-hire and tried to convince herself that the Bandit would not have hesitated to do the same to them if their positions were reversed.

Hrol stopped quickly, only really meaning to give the Dunmer a taste of what was to come if complete compliance wasn't given.

'I think he's ready,' Hrol called out. Cassandra stepped forward and cast a bolt of Dispel at the Bandit. The twin purple lights came out of her hand, spinning around each other as if in dance and leaving a wake of purple sparks behind them.

They hit the Dunmer in the chest, and released him from the Silence spell. 'I'll tell you anything!' the Dunmer shrieked as soon as he regained the use of his voice. Cassandra thought she could see tears.

Shalz knelt so he was inches above the prone Dunmer's face. 'How many more of you are there?' he asked. 'Eight more,' the terrified Dunmer replied. 'Two Khajiit Bowmen, three Redguards, a Breton Mage and two other Dunmers…'

Hrol whistled. Shalz looked impatient, as though angry they would have to fight so many to get to the prize. 'Please,' the Dunmer cried. 'Please don't kill me!'

Shalz grinned. He got up and nodded to Hrol. Cassandra walked over so the three of them were in a line. Shalz cast another Silence spell on the Bandit. The Dunmer's eyes widened.

The Mage, Battlemage and Spellsword opened fire simultaneously. Frost, lightning and Damage Health. The Dunmer died quickly and quietly.

Cassandra lowered her hand very slowly after they were done, and looked on the body for some time.

Feeling as though she were made of lead she said nothing, and walked briskly to rejoin the other two, who were already descending the second flight of stairs.

**********

Helseth followed the Blades, staying with the Emperor. He admired the way the three Blades cut down the red-garbed assassins as they rained down upon them from their hiding places in the walls.

Though not as elegant or nearly as powerful as magic, swords had an alien grace of their own which the Conjuror appreciated.

The assassins said nothing as they attacked, save an occasional cry of 'For Lord Dagon!', and attacks were quite frequent.

Helseth quickly found himself looking concernedly at the still form of Captain Renault as one of the assassins got a strike in with his conjured weapon.

With a roar, Baurus slashed savagely at the assassin's conjured armour. Within seconds the armour vanished in a cloud of yellow dust as the assassin fell to the stone floor dead, with wounds enough to slay three.

The Emperor shook his head sadly as Glenroy checked for Renault's pulse and stood up with a grim look upon his face.

Continuing on they reached an empty room. As Baurus attempted to open the rusty gates on the far side of the room Helseth took the time to admire the Ayleid architecture.

Advanced, those Ayleids, he thought. Building Cyclopean underground cities, crafting their Welkynd and Varla stones from meteoric glass, forging their Wells from meteoric iron…

'Locked!' an irritated Baurus exclaimed. 'From the other side…'

'How about that side passage back there?' Glenroy suggested. Grunting in the affirmative the Redguard turned.

Helseth gave a little cough. The three turned to look at him. 'You have something to say?' an unfriendly Glenroy asked.

Without a word Helseth threw what looked like to the others of the group to be a small white cloud at the gates. The gates glowed yellow and the tinkle of tumblers pulling back was heard.

'There are assassins in that side-passage' the Dunmer lied. 'I just saw them with Detect Life…'

In reality, of course, the Conjuror would have sooner _tasted_ the assassins supposedly hiding in that side passage before he'd be able to _Detect_ them…

Looking impressed, Baurus tried again at the gates. The Emperor smiled at the young Dunmer. Glenroy said nothing.

The group continued on. Helseth breathed an internal sigh of relief. He had not expected that, and knew it was only good fortune that his Alteration was up to the monumental task of breaking that pathetic lock.

Helseth scowled internally. He could almost hear Liixa laughing...

**********

Eryl stepped onto the carriage without a word to the driver. It was raining, but the Arch-Mage's Shield spell protected his robes from the water.

With a crack of the reins the driver sent the black horses into a brisk gallop. Leyawiin was not close to the Imperial City, and the University had requested that he bring their leader there as expediently as possible.

Eryl sat and thought about Dagail. He felt an overwhelming pity for her. Only now did he know the real reason behind her visions.

He also thought about what he might learn of the Sephira. They did not seem to be particularly dangerous, if treated properly, which unfortunate Alderbaren didn't.

Still, they had destroyed the Dwemer. And the Ayleids. Who knew what else they were capable of? Were they planning something at this moment? Could they be stopped?

**********

Dagon sat on the pure white throne, fuming. Was it too much to ask of his mortal thralls to acquire a simple necklace? Granted that the necklace in question was the Amulet of Kings and therefore probably protected as a powerful and sacred relic.

Not that the Amulet really was key to stopping an invasion from Oblivion. There were no 'liminal barriers' preventing his legions of Dremora, Scamps, Clannfears, Daedroths and the like from storming Nirn.

It was also quite certainly not a relic of Akatosh.

But Neitz did not want to take the easy route, and simply begin the invasion. Performances such as this required _showmanship_!

He would need a new reason, a new excuse... Perhaps the _Dragonfires _were whatkept up the barriers, and that without an heir to relight them, the barriers between Oblivion and Mundus would weaken over time, until...

Neitz was snapped out of his thoughts by a Valkynaz. The Sephira looked down from his throne angrily.

The Dremora at the bottom of the steps cleared his throat and said, in the typical Dremora voice of metal scraping on metal, 'Lord Dagon, Mankar Cameron reports that his assassins are still attempting to take the Amulet, and that the agents in Kvatch are ready to open a Great Gate.'

Neitz groaned. How many times did Mankar have to ask permission before he began the stupid attack?!

Dagon nodded. Or rather, Neitz, in the form of a being he called Dagon and whom he had convinced Mankar to worship and believe that his true form, that of a black-clad, silver-haired teenager was a servant of this being, nodded.

The plan had been altered slightly. Now that the Dragonfires were to be included in the great farce, an attack on the Temple District would have to be planned. Just as all symphonies have their crescendos, all great wars need their climatic final battle.

Dagon's form blurred, shrank and changed colours. In his stead Neitz, now in the comfortable black robes of the Sephira, sat.

Neitz stood up, and looked around him. He had done a good job. Carac Agaialor looked magnificent, and the rest of the 'Paradise' he had promised Mankar on behalf of his Lord Dagon was beautifully created. By mortal standards, anyway.

**********

Umbacano sat at his desk in the study attic. He was scrutinizing every page of a certain purple-covered book. He needed that carving!

He had been going through every text that mentioned that damned city, and could find nothing but either passing remarks made by the ignorant or coded references made by those who knew a little more about the place.

His attention was quickly taken up the crash of a book falling. He picked up the thick book with its purple leather cover and silver clasp.

It did not look familiar to him, but then again, he reasoned, with a collection as large as his...

As he undid the clasp a few loose notes fell out. He stooped down to pick them up, when one of the caught his eye.

The name of the ruin above the charcoal sketch! It was the city he had been searching for!

Not daring to hope, he looked more closely at the page. It contained a charcoal drawing of a pillar, etched with Aldmeri and Dwemer runes.

Barely breathing, the elderly Altmer antiquarian made a copy of the sketch on a spare piece of paper, adding the picture of the carved panel he wanted.

Whoever returned from Vilverin would have quite a next mission...

Meanwhile, on his roof, a boy in black sat and laughed.


End file.
